One man's dream to re-establish liquorice plants on his land could see them
take root once again in our gardens, says Sandra Lawrence

"When I was a kid 35 years ago, all the children in Pontefract chewed on liquorice sticks.” Farmer Rob Copley’s decision to plant a commercial liquorice crop, the first in Britain in more than a century, is driven more by nostalgia than hard business sense. He’ll need to wait another couple of years before he can start harvesting, but for him it feels a shame that the liquorice for the town’s famous Pontefract cakes is imported, mainly from Turkey .

Yorkshire’s liquorice garths (fields) failed to survive the economic changes of the 20th century. Labour-intensive and slow to mature, the delicacy brought to Britain by the Crusaders and to Yorkshire by Cluniac monks was grubbed out for faster, easier cash crops (although many old-timers kept the faith, and a plant or two, in their gardens). The Pontefract Liquorice Festival, held every July, celebrates the town’s enduring love affair with the plant.

It doesn’t occur to the rest of us to grow liquorice at home. A member of the pea family, it’s a stranger to garden centres. Many think it must be a tender exotic, especially when they see the feathery leaves and delicate blue flowers.

But Glycyrrhiza glabra, the only culinary strain of liquorice, is a tough customer. A native of south-eastern Europe and south-western Asia, it survives, thrives even, in climates as diverse as Scandinavia and Spain and is happy in most areas of Britain.

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The liquorice plant’s roots produce the distinctive 'sticks’ that were once chewed raw (ALAMY)

Brandy Carr Nurseries in Yorkshire is best known for its rhubarb. But owner Ben Asquith introduced liquorice when he took over the family company from his father in the early Nineties. Starting from stock begged from local gardeners, the nursery is now one of the few places supplying year-old seedlings each spring.

At that stage they’re pretty insignificant-looking. For a plant that will, after four or five years, reach 5-6½ft (1.5-2m) in height and spread 3ft (1m) within a single season, you’ll be lucky to see 1ft (30cm) in the first year. It feels counter-intuitive to put it at the back of a border but expert Rachel Cunningham suggests this is the best place for it. “It creates a lovely backdrop for shorter plants,” she says, “and it’s soft, so I can bend it over to paint my fence.” She warns that it should have space around it for harvesting. An alternative is a large container. “Some people keep them in pots to move around the garden providing screening from eyesores or to shade tender plants.”

In the wild, liquorice grows on riverbanks. “It prefers to have its feet wet and its head in the sun,” says Cunningham, “but it’s tolerant.” It can stand some drought and a variety of soils, though it likes a rich loam by choice and will repay a feed every so often. “The one thing the plants really can’t stand is wind,” she says, “they get battered easily.”

It is important to harvest liquorice once it reaches maturity as the roots can grow up to 13ft (4m). Harvest around September from alternate sides each year.

Ignore the main tap root holding the plant firm; look for bright, yellow-brown rhizomes just below the surface and cut the slender roots cleanly with a sharp knife. Wash the tenderest, then enjoy the old-fashioned, earthy experience of chewing a liquorice stick; releasing the sweet sap until just the stringy “toothbrush” remains.

Traditional Pontefract cakes (ALAMY)

More modern uses for the plant include liquorice tea or keeping a root in a jar of sugar for flavouring cakes. Rob Copley will be boiling his to a sticky, intense extract, good with red meat and sweet dishes; for a real “Yorkshire” hit, try it with rhubarb.

When the plant starts to die back in autumn cut everything down to the ground. It will reappear next spring. Unharvested rhizomes throw up new stems in their second year, which can be propagated, or you can collect and dry the seeds like other legumes, though they are smaller and fiddlier than peas and beans.

It’s a long-term investment. If you think asparagus takes its time, think again. Liquorice makes it look like an annual.

But for a tasty trip down memory lane, the nostalgic, feathery delights of liquorice will grace a border for many years, and provide an unusual crop into the bargain.